


The Metaphysical Accord

by closetcellist



Series: Werewolf AU [2]
Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: M/M, Parasol Protectorate AU, werewolf!Andrew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist
Summary: A collection of vignettes exploring the lives of Dr. Jhandir and Andrew in the Parasol Protectorate universe--forty years later





	1. The Change

Liam watched Andrew pace. He had been doing it since the doors—good, solid wood things, entirely in keeping with the rest of the décor, in that none of the mansion went with the rest of itself, a testament to its owner—had closed. Behind them, the doctor and a woman who was, in Liam's opinion, the most impossible person he'd ever seen, and that was before taking into account that she was a vampire, were going through whatever ceremony vampires had dreamed up to dress up what was often just a bloody mess. He let his brother work his energy out. There was really nothing else to do while they waited for what Andrew hoped was an eternity with Dr. Jhandir and what Liam was certain was the prelude to a funeral.

"Is it taking too long, d'you think?" Andrew asked, glancing at his brother worriedly. He looked about two seconds from whining, and Liam was torn. He'd come along to support Andrew but it was hard not to feel somewhat defensive when he got this worked up about the English doctor who was not, actually, his Alpha.

"You never know how long it will take," Liam offered, which was true. "If it takes." It had been hard enough to believe there was a vampire willing to turn someone and immediately let them try to become a rove (though less hard to believe when they’d actually met the vampire in question). It was beyond the realm of possibility that _this_ vampire queen would be able to successfully turn Dr. Jhandir, who, in Liam’s expert opinion, showed very little indication of having a soul at all, much less enough excess to successfully survive the transformation.

Andrew actually did whine then, quietly, glancing at the door again. It remained stubbornly closed and did not communicate any reassurances.

Liam tried to head off the inevitable, continuing as gently as he could. "You know what the chances are like. And he did too, you know he did."

Practically everyone in the town knew as well—Dr. Jhandir and Andrew had had several of what might kindly be called "flaming rows" about it before they had finally ended up here. Andrew had maintained for a long time that it was too dangerous a thing to try and they should instead make sure to treasure the time they actually had left together. Dr. Jhandir maintained, with equal emphasis and a lot more heat, that Andrew had no idea what it was like to be seventy years old, physically, and no one knew how much time they truly had and it was, in fact, much more sensible to risk a few years when you could potentially gain forever.

Unsurprisingly to anyone that knew them, Dr. Jhandir had won in the end, and so here they were, back in London again, waiting.

“I know how badly you wanted this, Andrew, but you need to be prepared,” Liam said, trying to get Andrew to focus and steel himself for the inevitable, something he had tried to get him to do for weeks to little avail. Of course he understood how difficult this was, he truly did, but when he’d agreed to try to turn his brother, he’d readied himself for all the possibilities, as painful as some of them were, and he’d made as much peace with them beforehand as a person could.

Andrew shook his head, half in true belief that Dr. Jhandir would be fine and half in simple obstinacy. “Ah, Liam, you know the doc. He wouldn’t just…” But really, he couldn’t even say it, and didn’t want to think it, though the probability wasn’t in their favor however you looked at it. “He’s a lot stronger than he looks,” he insisted.

Liam opened his mouth to try another tactic, when a sound made them both pause. At the creak of the door, Andrew jumped, turning with wide eyes to see what fate awaited him.

"Don't look tho thurprithed," Dr. Jhandir said, standing framed in the portal, smirking around his brand new fangs, looking about twenty years younger and too pleased and full of unlife to care about his lisp.

That was all he managed to get out before Andrew was on him, crushing him in an embrace that would have left him breathless, if he still needed to breathe.

“You thmell terrible,” Dr. Jhandir murmured, immediately pulling Andrew into a kiss as soon as he could free his arms.

“So do you,” Andrew fumbled out between desperate kisses, both men too relieved to care about much of anything other than Dr. Jhandir’s continued existence. They made something of a mess of it, neither used to the doctor’s new, very sharp fangs, though this didn’t slow them down at all even if it was slightly horrifying.

“ _Jaysus_ ,” Liam cursed, as quietly as he could manage, turning away from the scene they made—and it was quite a scene.

“Now, I hope everyone’s—oh,” Ivy Tunstell said, stopping mid-flounce, now in a new, equally outrageous dress, the other probably ruined, Liam suspected, knowing what he did of werewolf transformations. She looked shocked at the display but not, he thought, as shocked as she ought to. She cleared her throat, blushing, though she didn’t exactly look away. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, as Dr.. Jhandir and Andrew failed to stop, “But if you stay much longer I’m afraid you’ll get attached. To the hive, I mean. Here.”

This did get their attention, and they finally broke apart, and Dr. Jhandir wasted a few precious seconds trying to clean up both of their faces when he realized exactly how they looked. “You’re right, of courth,” he said, straightening himself up. “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Tunstell. I really can’t.”

Ivy giggled, covering her mouth. “Oh, I couldn’t say no to helping true love,” she said. “But now, go! You don’t have much time!”

Dr. Jhandir gave her a quick, archaic bow and took Andrew’s arm, beating a hasty retreat and utterly ignoring Liam.

For all he’d thought Andrew needed to prepare, Liam found he’d failed to do the same himself; for the first time, he had to contemplate an eternity with his brother's lover in their life. As a vampire. Forever.

Liam looked to the future, and found it bleak.


	2. The Fight

Andrew could be unfortunately quiet sometimes, and it often seemed to be when he _wasn't_ trying. That was how he caught them: Dr. Jhandir, fang-deep in the wrist of some young boy Andrew must have seen around the town, sitting pretty as you please at his dining room table, a pot of tea and half-cleared plate of biscuits in front of them. There was a moment of silence, a hesitation as the scene remained unbroken long enough for Andrew to take it all in, before the doctor looked up and drew back with a sigh that did not sound nearly as contrite or guilty as Andrew would have expected, given the flagrancy of the situation.

Ignoring the werewolf, which just made Andrew glower more deeply, Dr. Jhandir reached for the antiseptic and bandages he'd apparently set up beforehand as well—more damning evidence, in Andrew's eyes, at the premeditated nature of his act.

"Thank you, Killian," Dr. Jhandir said, as he cleaned and bandaged the youth's wrist, covering the small puncture marks his fangs had left in the skin there. "That will be all, it seems."

Killian glanced between the doctor and Andrew uncertainly. It was by now known in the town that the werewolf pack had an understanding with the vampire, and everyone was all the happier for it (some speculated on what that understanding was, exactly, but it generally fell under the heading of "no one’s business" as both the pack and the doctor had been valued members of the community for many, _many_ years). He'd assumed the vampire's offer had fallen well within that understanding, but taking in the werewolf's expression that did not appear to be the case. "Are ye sure?" He asked, uncertainly, as it seemed they’d only just started, though the increased intensity of the glare Andrew was giving him convinced him he didn't want to be further misunderstood.

"Quite positive," Dr. Jhandir said, firmly, though still without any trace of guilt. "Enjoy your travels and please send me a copy of your manuscript. Good bye, Killian."

Killian beat a hasty retreat, though not so hasty that he forgot the thick packet of bills that served as his quid in the pro quo situation. Dr. Jhandir finally turned to face Andrew once he heard the front door close. "Welcome back."

"What d’you think you're doin'?" Andrew growled.

"Having dinner," Dr. Jhandir replied—for all the flippancy of the words, there was a current of unmistakable tension that Andrew couldn't fail to hear, though he couldn't guess what it was doing there. The doctor, after all, was the one who was in trouble.

"You've got plenty of blood stored up!" Andrew exploded. "What're you doing feeding on that poor boy?"

"He's hardly poor any longer," Dr. Jhandir said, maintaining a remarkably chilly calm in the face of Andrew's anger. "I compensated him more than appropriately."

Andrew's expression grew darker at that, as the rare feeling of jealousy flashed a nasty silver fin in the dark waters of his mind. "Did you now?” he asked, his lip curling. “Paid him for his services?"

"Don't be tiresome," Dr. Jhandir snapped, unmoved and unimpressed. "You know full well artistic patronage is an established custom in vampiric circles. He wants to travel and write—now he has the means. It’s a perfectly reasonable, mutually beneficial situation."

"Artists don't have patrons anymore," Andrew rumbled, starting to pace, stilted, jerky strides illustrating exactly how worked up he was.

"So much the worse for them," Dr. Jhandir said, tersely.

"You don't _need_ to drink from people," Andrew said, turning to Dr. Jhandir again, his angry expression creasing with something else, in the realm of worry, though he was not prepared to give up his high ground just yet. “You’ve said so yourself, and we all agreed you could live just fine without that.”

And suddenly, Dr. Jhandir was in front of him, teeth bared and furious. "Yes," he hissed, "And you could survive perfectly well on spoiled meat. But you don't, because it would be a disgusting way to live, tasting decay every time you ate. Why should I have to choke down garbage for eternity?"

There was another brittle moment, balanced precariously in the few inches between them, the doctor seething and Andrew shocked by the outburst. Andrew deflated first, as was usually the case. "Ah," he said, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Why didn't you just say something?"

Dr. Jhandir took a step back, winding down too. "I thought I could take care of it myself, as I was doing. I had imagined you wouldn't like it." The look he gave Andrew added, 'and obviously I was right.'

"Well..." Andrew said. "It _was_ just the blood then?"

Dr. Jhandir didn't deign to answer such an obvious question. "Andrew."

Andrew sighed, shifting awkwardly. "I suppose...we'll have to work something out. We’ll have to talk about it. You know Liam's not going to be happy either."

Dr. Jhandir's silence indicated that Liam was free to be as unhappy as he liked, about anything he liked, and that was no concern of his—the stance he regularly took regarding Andrew’s brother, especially in the months since his transformation.

"Y’know, you're usually a lot warmer right after you've fed," Andrew grumbled, defeated.

Dr. Jhandir finally smiled, looking pleased, and not only because he’d won. "You're finally right about something," he teased gently, stepping closer. Andrew huffed, but Dr. Jhandir had plenty of practice soothing fur that he’d ruffled in the first place. He smoothed his hands down Andrew’s chest, absently brushing away some lint and dirt. “Come upstairs and you can relax and tell me about your trip.”

It was as close to an apology as he was likely to get, Andrew knew, and a good enough offer of peace—he had learned decades ago that if he didn’t accept these sorts of practically invisible olive branches, Dr. Jhandir would just go on being mad forever, and that was always much less fun than the alternatives.

Still, he would let Dr. Jhandir handle explaining things to Liam.


End file.
